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Romantic, William Dickey, in English Clear filters

RomanticWilliam Dickey

Autumnal

Shall we, while the night encloses And extinguishes the roses, Argue that the color there Is unconquerably fair, Fixed past mutability In the ever-seeing eye? Shall we, when assertive bone Predicates the skeleton, Arguing beneath the skin That its covering grows thin, Claim our younger counterpart From the album of the heart? Shall we, when the petal lingers For a moment on our fingers, But the tree expects the shape Of a narrower landscape,
RomanticWilliam Dickey

Love among the Manichees

The blond cowl terse as a blunt threat to injure, The claws instinctive to a triggering nerve, I am a shut spring in my fanged disguises, Aping the beast I serve. I would be for you an offering of clear spirit, Like water glistening over your spread hands, Like the pattern described in air when the bird has left it, Like not yet peopled lands. Tick-laden fur ruffling for winds of danger, I gorge on honey in the fallen tree, Snarl at approachers to these laden acres That bind their fruit to me. I would be for you like a length of fallow From the earliest world, like open mountainside Too high for the spurred seed to beat and follow, For the edged wing to glide.
RomanticWilliam Dickey

Spectrum

Brown from the sun's mid-afternoon caress, And where not brown, white as a bridal dress, And where not white, pink as an opened plum. And where not pink, darkly mysterious, And when observed, openly furious, And then obscured, while the red blushes come.
RomanticWilliam Dickey

Static Electricity

The celebrations of her night began. She was as indolent as the fallen silk Nightdress that spumed upon the still divan. She was the promise of the lesser flame Before the candle blossoms and grows quick, She was the relaxation of the foam At quiet water, when the tide hangs pent, Poised for its full swell to the anxious shore. She was enchaining her own element Until the music of the night might swim Upon her wholly like a pool of milk, Cool, animal. Until she in her dim Half-motion through the sibilant half-dark Might cling, as to the hand a strip of silk Full-charged, might cling, waiting its sudden spark.
RomanticWilliam Dickey

Waking

When the first language broke With its warm pain of speech Strong on the helpless blood, You were the single word My lips desired to reach, Say, and be understood. When the first touch awoke And hand could sense the air Curving upon its palm, You the excitement took To your own bosom, where It found its proper calm. And when the eyesight shone In its first glance, and saw The various world uprise, You were the still design

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